Caterwauling

Every once in a while, I post about where I’ve gone wrong in life. Which, considering that I’ve gone wrong in every aspect, these have been frequent posts.

Here’s another one.

The good friend I mentioned yesterday texted me some golden advice. And it kills me how smart he is and how NOT in power anywhere he is. Meanwhile people who (insert great insult that I’m too much of a lady to type) are seeing all kinds of fortune and favor in life.

Baffling, really.

Anyway, the advice I’ll keep to myself. But it leads me to two key things I consistently do wrong:

1. Looking out too much for others. I had my ass handed to me by a Boob Twin because I saw good hires being treated poorly, and I would do what I could to mentor them if I saw they were worth saving. (Or at least make a good effort to get them engaged before firing or recommending their termination.)

I did this because some really amazing people treated me incredibly and helped me both professionally and personally. People who didn’t need to go “above and beyond” but who did anyway. I felt it was the right thing to do to help people to their next level. It was just ridiculous that it ended up being at my expense.

2. Aligning with the “wrong” people. This is an offshoot of the first one. Boob Twin 1 saw me as being AGAINST her when I was really trying to help HER employees become more productive. Isn’t that better than firing someone, then going through the hiring/training process, and dealing with the terminated employee’s unemployment? I mean, if you saw something special in them, it’s in your best interest to bring it out of them.

Of course, I also admit to picking friends here and there and confiding in them. It keeps me sane. It also bites me square in my pudgy pork roast ass sometimes. Sometimes I use it to build trust, other times I use it as a tool in …

3. Making myself heard. Ergo why I got tossed out of the Veggie Patch after hundreds of vitriolic blogs. I thought they were funny and really, they were a creative outlet for my annoyance.

The blog has toned down in recent years but after a few really good years here and there in my life, the crazies are back full-force and I just want someone, anyone to not only hear them but to DO SOMETHING ABOUT THEM.

This blog is as public as it gets. But I know my Facebook messages can get a little terse sometimes and I forget that I have friends everywhere who not only read it, but READ INTO it.

That, and I just say what I think in person. All the time. I mean, I do use the filter, believe it or not. And I don’t say anything I wouldn’t repeat, even if sheepishly, if anyone called me out on it.

I don’t know. I guess it goes back to if someone just knew what was bugging me, they’d do something about it. If the people who CAN do something about it, don’t, that’s when I really start to find ways to overshare and often with the wrong audiences.

So, now that I know what’s wrong with me … what keeps me in the same goddamned place in life no matter how much I scrape and claw and move around and try and try and try again … what am I gonna do to fix it?

*looks around for help*

And so, the cycle repeats itself.

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*Disclaimer: I don’t have kids and don’t see any in the immediate future. This is purely conjecture meant to make myself feel better.

I found myself yesterday at the final street fair of the winter, the last gasp of “snowbird” season. It’s the biggest and best in my humble opinion. It’s also special to me because it was going on when I moved down here four years ago. So, yay me — four years in Florida and I hope many more.

Anyway, you don’t see a lot of kids down here. If you see a stroller, there’s usually a dog or two in it. If they aren’t in a purse. And the few that ARE on leashes are in dresses with tiny anchors or ladybugs or sunflowers on them.

It’s appalling. And yet, I seriously want a just-above-teacup-sized pup that I can put into obnoxiously adorable outfits.

Anyway, the rare kid I saw (parked in strollers outside the over-21 area where people like me were gulping our salvation) pretty much had a vocabulary of two words: No or OK.

And I realize, that’s kind of my world too. But it’s time to reverse it.

I’ve spent a lifetime saying yes to every work request. But when it comes to personal relationships, save for the whole TG saga and maybe a few others that didn’t invade my soul quite so terribly, I tend to say no. No time, no energy, no effort, no way I can fit that in because other things take priority.

Time to reverse it.

Time to say YES to dates and flirts and texts and calls. Yes even more often to friends! Within reason of course — I’m still pretty fucking tired and, judging by the amount of money I spend at Total Wine, drunk. But more NOs to everyone who gets a wild hair.

Sure, little kids who say no end up getting cajoled or forced into doing what doesn’t appeal to them. But for that glorious moment of FEELING in control, I’d sell my soul.

I keep starting to blog and then closing out of the window. Because, well, I want to keep a job. Even if it’s this one!

Seriously, we’ve morphed beyond, “Well this kind of sucks sometimes” to “I’ve met cups of decaf that served more purpose in my life than you do.”

Today’s buzzword was “efficiency per person” in the context of it being balanced.

HAHAHAAAAAAAA.

Not judging by last night’s yam fit, it isn’t, hasn’t been and, unless Jesus Himself comes down and intervenes, may never be.

I’m walking the fine line between utter disillusionment and morbid curiosity. This is either a chance to show leadership or my cue to find an exit strategy beyond jumping off the roof and landing on the resident alligator.

Had dinner with my favorite former boss last night. He reminds me that there’s hope. I am hoping we can work together. I mean, I see very easy ways and I’m used to making those kinds of decisions. Now, to get others to see it my way. Because it could be something as easy as that, that would prevent sounding the next High Yam Alert.

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Yesterday I left the house in jeans, only to realize it was only Thursday. That’s how many hours I’d worked (36, with almost 5 hours of commute too), and that’s how utterly exhausted I was.

Of course I changed into dress clothes. Because, you know, I sit where people can see me. Not. *Snort*

The sad part is, I come home so late most nights that the pantyhose I wash the minute I get home is usually still sopping wet by the time I go to find it in the a.m.

I think you should be able to, after 40 hours worked, wear whatever the hell you want to wear. Of course, I think a lot of things are screwed up, so I guess that’s the least of my worries. Of course, it’s the little things like this going my way that would make the bigger stuff that doesn’t/never will a tad less cumbersome.

I almost made it a whole week without psychotropics. *pop*

Busted my ass to make sure something happened successfully yesterday. To the point that someone actually said to me, “Holy shit, I had no idea how much work you actually do.”

I’d say a miracle was pulled off. I’m not quite sure I raised my salary in sales yesterday, but I’m sure I came close and I’m OK with that.

Otherwise yesterday went off the rails. Off. The. Rails. I have too much on my plate and you know fat girls — we eat everything put in front of us.

I’m still head-scratching over something that happened yesterday. I think my trusting nature is going to be the death of me once again. It’s my downfall every time, isn’t it?

Oh well. I wasn’t true to myself for 10 minutes and I deserve whatever I get. This from the girl who has proudly said throughout the latest drama that “I am right with my God and I am right with myself. Anyone who has anything to say about me needs to check themselves.”

I’m doing the best I can. Fuck, I’m doing the MOST I can. And I don’t know if the right people are realizing. But at least I know enough people that are, and I truly am right by my God in that respect.